


Someone Left The Ham Out In The Rain

by crossingwinter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: AU? Alternate Canon? You decide!, Birthday ham!, Early marriage arguments, Gen, Ham - Freeform, Humor, Implied R+L--J, utter crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had all been going well until the ham flew out the window.  </p><p>Drat.</p><p>Lyanna sighed, and crossed the room, looking down after the fallen piece of cured meat.  Of all the possible problems that Rhaegar Targaryen could have caused her marriage to Robert Baratheon, she had never suspected that this would ever be one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Left The Ham Out In The Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [porcelaindakota](https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelaindakota/gifts).



> This is what comes when I am stuck in my dorm during Hurricane Sandy.  
> The Prompt is the first line of the fic.

It had all been going well until the ham flew out the window. 

Drat.

Lyanna sighed, and crossed the room, looking down after the fallen piece of cured meat.  Of all the possible problems that Rhaegar Targaryen could have caused her marriage to Robert Baratheon, she had never suspected that this would ever be one of them.

The ham lay in the middle of the courtyard, knocked hither and thither by the strong winds.  She was pleased to see that its packaging was still in tact, though she doubted it would remain that way if the storm persisted, or the rain began.  There was no getting it now, not when the winds were like this.  She supposed the ham was doomed.

She sighed, and turned back to Robert.  At least he had the decency to look somewhat abashed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled gruffly.

She sighed again.  “There is no helping it, I suppose.”

“I just—“

“Yes, yes.  You don’t like the idea of my being friendly with our good king.  There was no need to throw your son’s nameday ham out the window.  What are we going to have made for him now?” 

To be fair, she was not entirely sure that Jon was in fact Robert’s son.  He looked so like Ned that it was hard to tell who had fathered him and she had bedded both of them within a day of one another, so there was no knowing.  Not that she ever told her husband, or the king—or really, anyone—that.

“Surely there is something in the kitchens.”

“There is something, my love, but not ham.  And you know how much Jon loves ham.  You will have spoiled his nameday now.”

“I know—“

“It would not have been so bad if you had not told him that there would be ham for dinner tonight.  Now he’s going to be all disappointed, and he is only three and won’t understand why he cannot have what he wants.  And he’ll cry, and then Emmeline will cry, and honestly Robert, just because I bring up King Rhaegar’s name—” Robert threw his wine glass against the wall, where it shattered.  “does _not_ mean you have to throw things.”

Robert poured himself another glass of wine (using her wineglass, she noted) and took a swig. 

“I don’t like the way he looks at you, Lyanna.  Like you’re a piece of meat.”

Lyanna glanced out the window at the ham again.  She supposed that if Rhaegar Targaryen were looking at her the way she was now looking at the ham, Robert probably would not have minded so much.  Disappointment, resignation, and a tinge of disgust.  Robert would probably have liked that very much, in fact.

“Do not trouble yourself with it, Robert.  Ever since he married Cersei Lannister, you and I both know that she’ll keep him from looking at anyone but her from now on.  Besides, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat all the time.”

“Yes, but I’m your husband.”

“And Rhaegar’s—” Robert threw the second wine glass as well. “both of our king.  And are you going to drink out of the bottle now, my love, because we don’t have any more glasses.”

Robert flushed, and picked up the bottle and took a swig in half defiance.  He put it back on the table again, as if hoping that that would stop him from throwing it when she, inevitably, brought up Rhaegar Targaryen’s name one more time. 

“In any case, this is irrelevant,” she continued, “whether you like it or not, the King is coming to Storm’s End next week, and whether you like it or not, we now have to think of a solution to the fact that Jon is going to be very upset tonight, despite the fact that we should be celebrating his birth.”

Robert threw himself into a chair.  “He has a cake.  Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“You and I both know that he has not got much of a sweet tooth.  But he does love his ham.”

“What kind of boy doesn’t have a sweet tooth.  It’s unnatural,” muttered Robert.

“Robert, you think any boy who is not like you is unnatural.  I’m surprised you got on so well with Ned, given how different you are.”

Robert looked stung.  “Ned and I have plenty in common.”

“Oh yes, you do.  I suppose.  But for the drinking, whoring, general debauchery, and capacity to remain calm when faced with the name Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Robert, who had nothing to throw, kicked the table in front of him.  The leg broke, and the table careened sideways.  The bottle of wine slid off and shattered on the floor.

“Seven hells,” grumbled Robert, looking forlornly at the wine.  It was his turn to sigh now, and he glanced up at Lyanna.  “Is there any meat he hasn’t tried yet?”

“By and large, no.  If you weren’t so fond of hunting, that might not be the case.  But he’s eaten most game at this point.”

“What about livestock?”

“Cows, pigs, mutton.  He’s had bits of them all.  That’s why he likes ham so much.”

“Has he had lamb?”

“Do we have lamb?”

“I don’t know.  Answer the question.”

“I don’t know if he has.  We don’t have much mutton around here, do we.  The Stormlands are not famous for their wide and bountiful pastures.”

“Well, find Penrose and see if there’s any lamb to be had.  Or send my dratted brother Stannis out into the storm to fetch that dratted ham.”

Lyanna considered this option.  “The wind might throw him against the stable and give him a concussion.  I don’t think that’s the best idea, Robert.”

“The wind can’t be that strong, can it?” Robert sounded hopeful.

Lyanna looked out the window.  The ham was now a good twenty feet away from where it had landed initially.  And it was still being buffeted about.

“If the wind is not that strong, _you_ can go and get it.”

Robert considered.  He stood up, crossed to her, and glanced out the window.  He cursed.

“Seven bloody hells, I didn’t throw it that far, did I?”

“No, you didn’t.  The wind did the rest, my love.”

Robert looked at her. 

“For Jon,” he muttered, then he turned and went out the door. 

A moment later, Lyanna saw him dashing out into the courtyard.  The wind was a surprisingly powerful adversary for her enormous husband.  It would have been impressive, watching him struggle across the courtyard, if the wind weren’t also knocking about the ham.  It seemed as though every time that Robert had almost got his hands on it, the wind blew it out of his grasp.

When he did at last catch the ham, he cradled it to his chest as he had once cradled baby Jon and baby Emmeline.

Lyanna tried very hard not to laugh.

But there would be ham for Jon tonight.  She sighed with relief.


End file.
